How to Make an Avox
by ForFutureReference
Summary: A detailed step-by-step guide to the creation of an Avox. Starring everybody's favorite redheaded Peacekeeper. And no, the procedure's not pretty.
1. Condemnation and Acquisition

_**Welcome to another issue of Ask the Capitol**__**®!**_

_**In this issue, we address the subject of Avoxes. As can be seen, and sometimes not seen, Avoxes provide an integral service to the Capitol. Why without them, we would have regular Capitol citizens doing menial labor. **_

_**However, many people wonder as to the process in which an Avox is created. Well, we seek to put such questions to rest.**_

_**We hope you will find this step-by-step guide quite informative. **_

_**STEP I: Condemnation and Acquisition.**_

_**Avoxes don't grow on trees, you know. So where do they come from? Well, Avoxes were once regular people. However, those individuals have committed a crime. Not just any crime however; so don't fret if you've been caught shoplifting or have some outstanding debts. To be condemned as an Avox, one has to commit a crime against the Capitol itself. The thought of somebody doing such a thing is shameful, isn't it?**_

Droplets of blood splatter against the pavement as our new Head Peacekeeper rears his whip back to give Gale another set of lashings. As each hit rends the hunter's back to ribbons and causes him to issue another agonized gasp, I feel an additional surge of anger.

I try to take a step forward to say something, but Purnia lays a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Darius, are you trying to get yourself in trouble?" she hisses at me.

"He's going to kill Gale!" I hiss back.

"I don't like it anymore than you, and I'm trying to figure something out. But just telling Romulus Thread that he's wrong won't stop anything."

After a couple more lashes, Gale slumps towards unconsciousness. But Thread just keeps on going.

_To hell with figuring something out._ I angrily shrug away Purnia's hand and step forward. In the process, it causes the crowd to mutter a bit and Purnia to give a resigned sigh: "Dammit Darius…"

"Sir?"

Thread stops in mid-swing to turn towards me. "Yes, Peacekeeper?" His tone as harsh and unyielding as his stare. Both partly make me want to get back in line, but for some idiotic reason I stand my ground.

"I believe that you made your point clear? You really don't have to continue with this."

His eyes narrow, and he move towards me until he's less than a foot away from my face. "Are you questioning the law?"

_Yes._ "No sir. Just that it seems clear that Ga—the accused clearly has been pushed to the brink. You whip him more, and he may not survive."

"It is not my problem if this criminal expires before all prescribed number of lashes have been administered. Now get back in line; I will not tolerate any further insubordination." Just like that, Thread turns away and is already gearing up to give out another lash.

Before I can stop myself, I yell out, "Stop, you're killing him!" and lunge forward to grab Thread's wrist.

Big mistake.

"This district is more corrupt than I thought," he mutters before yanking his hand from my grasp and bellowing to the crowd, "Looks like we have another example that needs to be made of!"

I don't even have a chance to react. The last thing I see is the butt of a whip coming down upon my face. Then, after a sharp burst of pain, nothing.

* * *

**A/N: I really hope that the title, story description, and preface should give one a good idea of what to expect. But just in case the point has not been made clear enough, this is a detailed story about what people go through on their way to becoming Avoxes. So if the subject of torture, abuse, and the removal of body parts is something one finds distressing, it's probably not a good idea to proceed to the next chapters. Just a very strong forewarning.**

**Otherwise, enjoy. I mean, the subject matter isn't enjoyable — you get the picture.**


	2. Conditioning

I wake up groggily on a cot, and a horrible throbbing pain can be felt on my forehead.

_Ugh… feels like the aftermath of a bad night at the Hob._

Suddenly, everything comes back to me: Gale being whipped; me trying to stop Thread; Thread clobbering me. Looking around, I see that I'm in the holding cell. Purnia's sitting right outside.

"Hey," she says, "how are you feeling?"

"Like I just lost to Haymitch at a game of coins." _Might as well ask about the reason I'm here. _"Gale?"

"Last I checked, he's still alive. After about forty lashes, Katniss arrived, intervened and almost became another example in the process." Another surge of anger goes through me at that bit of news. "However, Haymitch and Peeta managed to back her up and invoke victor status, which gave me an opening to tell Thread that the punishment was sufficient for first offenses. Last I saw, he was being carried over to the Everdeens. So I think he'll be okay."

"That's good." _Fat load of help I was..._ "Are you here to say 'I told you so'?"

She shakes her head. "I don't have the heart to do that. If it makes you feel any better, you probably bought Gale some valuable time. With the state he was in, there's a chance that Katniss could have easily arrived too late."

The funny thing is, it does make me feel a bit better. "So I take it that Thread's preparing to put a bullet in my head." I chuckle mirthlessly at the thought.

Purnia, on the other hand, suddenly has a very grim look to her face. "Honestly, that would be preferable."

A cold knot settles in my stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Thread has convicted you of treason. I don't have to tell you what the punishment is."

My hand involuntarily goes to my jaw, as if it would stave off the inevitable.

"I take it that I leave with the next train to the Capitol."

"Yeah. For what it's worth, it's been an honor serving with you, even if you were a bit of a fool."

That earns a genuine chuckle from me. "Thanks. Same here; without the fool part, of course."

"Oh and a certain someone — who, of course, we don't know — came across me tonight and gave me these:" She holds out several cookies to me. "Think of them as the condemned's last meal."

I laugh and take them. "Thanks. Be sure to thank that person if you run into them again — which, of course, you won't."

"Will do. I suggest you eat them before Thread comes to get you."

When Purnia turns to leave, I decide to have a final request. "Purnia."

She stops to glance over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Please tell my family that Thread shot me or something. Don't tell them the truth."

"Don't worry; I'll make sure to make it look like you went in a blaze of glory."

A small smile forms at the thought. "Thanks; the more epic, the better. I guess I'll see you other side."

"I guess."

After she heads out, I bite into a cookie, savoring its sweet richness. I know that it very well could be the last pleasant thing I experience in my life.

_**STEP II: Conditioning.**_

_**As the people who become Avoxes are dangerous and treasonous individuals, it is important that they go through a conditioning process even before partaking in their trademark procedure. Imagine the horror that would befall the Capitol and its upstanding citizens if these deranged and barbaric criminals were allowed to roam around with their subversive natures still intact. **_

_**After being apprehended, the condemned are taken to a special facility in the Capitol to detain and help treat them.**_

While the armor is removed from my uniform, they don't bother giving me a new change of clothes during the entire long trip to the Capitol. Once the train reaches its destination, several armed guards drag me out and load me into a vehicle to take me to some facility.

I'm then taken out and sent to "Processing". Some official fills out a form detailing my history and incarceration — naturally she makes sure to sneer at me with contempt — before I continue on. I'm then ordered to strip down completely and walk through some kind of passageway, with various stages I have to go through.

At the first stage, high-pressure blasts of cold water come at me from all directions; it feels like my skin is about to be torn off. After that, I walk through a waterfall containing some kind of smelly liquid that burns the cut on my head and my eyes, even though they are tightly shut. I blindly stumble to the third stage where another blast of water hits me. The fourth stage just runs a gust of warm air through; I guess they couldn't figure out a method of drying that was quick yet painful.

When I walk into the fifth stage, nothing happens. Even when I stand, as instructed, on the yellow circle in the middle of the floor, and face the proper direction, still nothing happens.

_Huh, maybe it's something that you can't se—_

Suddenly a bulky machine drops down out of the ceiling and clamps down on my head.

_**With the number of Avoxes we have, it can be a bit difficult to keep tabs on them. Thus, a tracking and identification chip is installed in a noninvasive manner. **_

I instinctively struggle against the device, but it just doesn't budge. Once it's clear that the thing is part of the protocol, I finally relax. That's when something jabs me behind the ear.

I can't help but gasp in pain as they insert… whatever they are inserting in me.

When the machine finally retracts, I move to feel behind my ear. Sure enough, there is a small, unmovable lump there. They actually affixed the damn thing to my skull.

Before I can process what just went on, the doors in front of me open, and guards rush in to drag me to my next destination.

_**While in the conditioning process, the condemned are kept in special holding cells. For their own safety, they are kept separate from each other with minimal contact.**_

I remain naked as I'm taken to my holding cell. As I'm dragged along, I practically gape at the wall of cells stacked on top each other. Here and there, I can see prisoners taken wherever they are taken by guards; they are just as naked as I am.

When I am finally taken to my cell, I am unceremoniously thrown in, and the door is shut. There is no light in the cell. Not even the slightest muffled sound either. After just a couple minutes, I start finding the silence oppressive; occasionally I scream just so I can hear myself. One of the only other times I hear something is when they feed in audio of individuals screaming as they go through their "procedure".

Mealtime takes the form of either ration bars or porridge thrown in through a slot in the door. Anything I get is bland and texture-less, but it's something. I guess it's just to barely prevent us from starving to death; however, there are times when days pass before I can get the next meal. If I want to get a drink, there is small dribble of water that trickles down the wall that I can lick at.

There is no sink or toilet in the room; just a drain in the back corner. So when I have to go, I always try to go around that drain and keep the waste as far away from me as possible; it's slightly difficult to do when the cell is three-by-seven feet. Usually, there will be an automated torrent of water that rushes through the cell and rinses it out. Sometimes it comes each day; sometimes it's a couple days until the next rinse. Its schedule is about as predictable as the food's.

_**Despite the unforgivable past actions of the condemned, workers and guards are trained and expected to perform in the upmost professional manner. **_

The first day has barely passed in full when the door opens without notice, and I have to squint as my eyes adjust to the harsh light. I can barely make out the forms of several people standing outside.

A confident and amused voice rings out from one of them. "Now, now… Let's take a look at our newest acquisition."

Before I can say anything, I'm dragged out of the cell into the walkway, where several guards are waiting.

"Somebody clean him off so I don't have to get shit all over me," the burliest of the guards says with the same voice I heard earlier; I assume him to be the ringleader.

In response to him, I'm sprayed with stream of water until they are sure I have nothing left on me.

"Ah, so we have ourselves a redhead," the ringleader says cheerfully. "Nothing like some ginger to freshen up the day."

I have a good idea what they intend to do, and I'm not planning on going down without a fight.

I send an elbow out behind me and catch a guard on the nose; from the cracking noise and gush of blood, I probably broke said nose. I then land a solid left hook on the ringleader's jaw. As he staggers back, the rest of guards move to restrain me.

The ringleader pauses for a moment to wipe the blood off his chin and look at it before chuckling.

"Looks like you some spunk in you, boy. I like that." He then swiftly punches me in the solar plexus. As I collapse down to the ground and gasp for air, he grabs a handful of my hair, yanks my head back, and whispers in my ear, "I think I'll have you be my regular playmate from now on.

"Alright, everybody hold gingersnaps down. I get first dibs."

As the other guards hold me down and pin my face against the metal floor, I will myself not to break down completely.

…

After the first couple times, I start using the guards' "visits" as a way of telling myself how many days pass. They are way more reliable than the showers or food.

_**Of course, the main thing to ensure that the Avox knows their place in society is for them to relinquish their old titles and embrace their new ones. **_

I sputter and try to catch my breath as the guards remove the wet cloth from my face. A portly technician reclines back in his chair and fixes me with a bland gaze.

"Really now," he says casually, as if he were an elementary school teacher admonishing me for a spelling error, "it's such a simple question with a simple answer. What is your name?"

I don't care how many times we go through this — I lost count after seven — or how many more there are; I won't give them the satisfaction. They have taken my livelihood, my dignity, and they will be taking my tongue. But I won't let them take my name. "Darius Anders."

"Tsk… You sound like a broken record." He motions to the guards. "Again."

"You're one to ta-AAARRGHH!"

They don't do the same torture each time; I guess it's to keep things fresh. Instead of the water, they flood my body with electricity. My body attempts to arch itself up but the straps hold every part of me — even the fingers — in place.

_They can't do this forever. Can they?_

"We can keep doing this all day, you know. Just answer correctly, and we'll be done with this inconvenient business. What is your name?"

They may be able to do this forever, but if I push them hard enough, maybe I can get them accidentally kill me. "Darius… An—"

I'm interrupted by the technician's bored sigh. "Again…"

This time, _along_ with the electricity, a machine begins drilling through my fingernails into the flesh beneath them.

_Stop! STOP! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!_

"What is you name?"

_This will never be over. Just… just give them what they want. _

"A-Avox… 02-0179B…" I manage to croak out.

The technician fixes me with that same damn bland gaze as a small smile plays on his lips. "Finally, some progress. Though you don't seem too confident in your answer. Let's do this a couple times more… just to be sure."

"Wait, n—"

"Again."


	3. The Operation

_**Step III: The Operation**_

_**Naturally, the portion of the Avoxing process that most people tend to be interested in is the medical procedure itself. Considering that the hallmark of an Avox is the lack of tongue, there is no reason that this step would not be considered the hallmark experience.**_

_**Before they actually go through the operation, the condemned are examined to make sure that they are well prepared.**_

I actually get to have an actual warm shower, and take my sweet time there, before I'm taken to a sterile room where a matronly doctor is waiting.

She scans my chip and glances at her tablet to rattle-off some stats: "Avox 02-0179B. Former name: Darius Anders. Age: 22. Home District: Two. Former Profession: Peacekeeper." After finishing, she looks at me and asks, "Is this information correct?"

I'm extremely tempted to say something like: _"Oh, Darius is actually my evil lost twin. He pulled the old switcheroo, and now I, _Daryl_ Anders, am in this nasty mess. So, can I go now?"_

However, I just reply with, "Yes, ma'am."

_**For the sake of pacification and keeping our citizens safe, it is common for the condemned to go through a fixing operation. It either takes the form of full emasculation for males or oophorectomies for females… **_

Besides regular physical examinations, the doctor begins looking me over as if I were a barnyard animal being appraised. Squeezing a forearm here, fiddling with my hair there, prodding my body here and there…

A month ago, I probably would have felt fairly self-conscious. As of now though, strangers have been messing around with my naked body long enough that it no longer fazes me.

She then asks one of her assistants, "When was the last time he got tested?"

"Actually just a couple days ago."

"Anything of note?"

"No VDs or any blood-borne contamination. Medical history shows no abnormalities either, genetic or otherwise. Despite the usual physical trauma, subject is about as healthy as can be."

"Hmm…"

_What the hell does "hmm" supposed to mean?_

… _**However, for various possible reasons, the procedure is not always carried out.**_

Finally, the doctor makes her judgment. "This one looks like he could possibly do well in the entertainment sector. So I'm going to label him as Class-A. Take him to the proper room and keep him whole."

Despite everything that I know is about to happen to me, I can't help but breath a small sigh of relief.

_**The Capitol takes great pride in the quality of its operating conditions as well as the treatment of even its most despicable enemies. So quality control is a very big part of the operation ethic.**_

After the last bits of details have been taken care of by the doctor, I'm taken out of the examination room and towards what I assume to be the operation facility. As I'm marched down the corridor, I pass operation rooms; the walls are clear so as to give an oh-so-wonderful view of the interiors. Occasionally, a room would be occupied with the screaming occupant in full view. The empty rooms aren't that much better as I can clearly see that don't clean them out after each operation; blood and waste is pooled and smeared all over the floors and operating chairs. Upon passing another occupied room, it's apparent that they don't even bother wiping the chairs down when a new "patient" is admitted.

So naturally I'm surprised when the room that I'm taken to is completely clean to the point of sterility. Must be one of the perks of being labeled "Class-A".

_**A very common, and quite distressing, misconception is that the tongue is simply ripped out or chopped off. Why the very thought that the Capitol would stoop to levels of barbarism. This isn't the districts; there are no reasons to subscribe to such crude methods. In fact, the process is actually quite sophisticated and thorough. **_

_**With advances in medical technology, the operation is able to be done remotely; this is to ensure the safety of our medical professionals. **_

After I'm securely strapped to my chair, and panels are put at the sides of my head to prevent me from moving it around, I see a machine lower down from the ceiling and approach me. It is almost reminiscent of goose, with a head at the end of a long flexible and articulate neck.

Except with this goose, the head is outfitted with various hooks, tubes, blades, and lenses. That's when I realize that they haven't even given me any morphling.

_**For ease of operation, the jaw is kept open. Suction tubes are also inserted to drain any blood being let out from the cutting of tissue. The tongue itself is fixed to further prevent it from moving around. **_

Once the machine's right in front of me, I'm ordered to open my mouth. Be it an act of defiance, stupidity, or both, I keep it clamped firmly shut. Suddenly, something jabs me in the lower back, and I give an involuntary gasp of pain. With that little opening, the machine quickly slides in some sort of jack which starts expanding. No matter how much I resist, I feel my jaws being pried open, with the jack jabbing into the roof and floor of my mouth.

Once the jack stops, I can feel several tubes settle at the floor of my mouth and begin suctioning. That's when I feel the first sharp bout of pain, as several hooks pierce my tongue and proceed to stretch it up and out.

_**The first part of the tongue operated on is the frenulum **__**linguæ. This is cut away so as to loosen-up the tongue itself for an easier operation.**_

Even before they begin closing, I can feel the miniature scissors approaching the divide-y thing at the bottom of my tongue. When they start snipping away, pain blossoms even more than what I felt with the hooks, and the first whimpers escape from my throat.

_**With the cutting of the frenulum, work can commence on the muscles of the tongue itself. The first muscle to be worked on is the genioglossus, which is carefully separated from the floor of the mouth.**_

I just barely recover from the pain, after the scissors have stopped, when I hear a high-pitch buzzing sound. I can just barely comprehend what is about to happen when a new wave of agony hits as the blade goes under my tongue, then side to side. That's where I throw away every last shred of dignity and pride that I have left, and let out a feral howl.

Whenever I pause between screams, there is either the wet sound of the blade whirling away at my flesh or the gurgle of the suction tubes as they turn a deep crimson.

Finally, the pain becomes too much and blissful darkness overtakes me.

_**After the genioglossus has been completely freed, the hyoglosssus is then cut from the greater cornu of the hyoid bone. Then goes the palatoglossus, and then the styloglosssus. Care is taken so as to leave the geniohyoideus and stylohyoideus intact. **_

_**Once every muscle has been freed and any remaining tissue severed at the base, the tongue is easily lifted out. Work is then immediately done to seal any open wound so as to prevent bleeding and infection. For the floor of the mouth, a layer of epithelial tissue is laid down and affixed to replace the former tongue. From there on, with no small part due to the miracles of Capitol science, the healing process is quite rapid.**_

When I finally come to, I find myself in a slightly larger cell than usual. This time, there is light, a cot, toilet, and even a little window so I can look outside. I guess being a Class-A Avox means that they want me to actually heal in a healthy manner. At the thought of healing, it suddenly all comes back to me as to what I am healing from, and I start noticing how cavernous my mouth feels.

As the full magnitude of my loss hits me, I curl into a ball and I slowly, but hesitantly, reach a finger inside my mouth to feel for something that I know is no longer there…

_**Even with the removal of the tongue, it is still possible to create some semi-coherent noises. To complete the procedure, the vocal folds are perforated to stem the ability to create tones.**_

When they bring me back to the operating room and tie me into the chair for the second time, I just want to get things over with. I'm too tired to get scared or upset.

So I don't even try to resist as the machine snakes down my throat and starts cutting it up.


	4. Acclimation

_**Step IV: Acclimation.**_

_**An Avox can't simply be thrown out into the open. There must be an acclimatization process so they can get into tip-top shape so that they will not only be able to function with minimal supervision but also look extra presentable. **_

I'm actually given some medical treatment to fix any wounds I've endured during my imprisonment; I even get free dental work. During that time, I'm not only given a regular scheduled issuing of food, but also an increased amount plus regular exercise; probably so I don't look like a walking skeleton.

Eating's a bitch to learn at first. I haven't realized how important the tongue was until now. Because my current lack of said appendage, I'm forced to eat out of tube that supposedly gives me all the vital nutrients. I remember looking at the contraption with dismay the first time it was slid into my cell. I have to position the thing, and suppress the gag reflex, so that the nozzle is literally in my gullet; once in place, it simply force-feeds me the paste. There's the fun realization that this is probably the way I'm going to eat for the rest of my life.

I've been tempted to use the feeder to choke myself to death, but it's actually made so that such a thing is impossible; the guy in the cell across from mine tried, and failed, to do so with very messy results. So there goes that idea.

_**Like any well-trained animal, Avoxes need to have discipline if they are to be able to work in public. An untrained Avox that lacks discipline could wreak havoc and cause such distress among our upstanding citizens. Thus, Avoxes go through a rigorous training process so they can perform at tip top shape. **_

For the first time in a long while, I'm actually given some clothes to wear. Very basic fare, but it's still clothes.

Afterwards, I'm taken to a hall that serves as the training facility for Class-A Avoxes. There we are taught things like how to serve dishes, perform advanced etiquette, clean rooms, make beds, clean up messes, handle fragile objects, keep out of sight as much as possible, allow oneself to be a passive sex toy, etcetera… After a lesson, we are expected to immediately perform the task at hand.

During the whole time, there are overseers who judge us on our performance as we go through various tasks given to us. Occasionally, there are various competitions that are given out. They determine not only how high of a performance we give at a task, but how quickly we get it done. Supposedly, the more points one racks up, the sooner one is able to be done with the training portion.

_**On top of this, great pains are taken to ensure that good behavior is practically hardwired into them. If an Avox-in-training slips up, it is with a firm guiding hand that they are set straight. **_

The clatter of the silverware on the floor fills the hall, and I let off an inward and colorful string of expletives. I can see the rest of my compatriots gazing upon at me with a mixture of fear and pity before quickly continuing to scurry about their business; they know what's coming. Even as I futilely try to pick everything up and proceed as if nothing ever happened, one of the overseers in on me within several seconds.

"Avox, what the hell is this?" he yells at me.

I'd answer him, but… you know…

I make a small acceptable gesture of apology while I grab the last of the silverware. It's not enough.

"Your clumsiness means that the silverware will need to be returned to be clean, possibly delaying service to an important citizen."

_Aw, I'm sure that they will be so distraught, they won't know what to do with themselves…_

"Well, I doubt me just lecturing you will get things into that dense skull of yours." He motions to a guard. "Confine this failure to solitary for twelve hours. Hopefully, he should learn his lesson by them."

Memories of my imprisonment before the operation flood back to me, and I look up pleadingly at him. Doing so, I end up breaking a major rule.

The overseer's eyes narrow and he growls dangerously at me, "Did you just make eye contact with me, Avox?"

Realizing my error, I quickly avert my eyes and shake my head quickly.

However, the damage has been done as he proceeds to bark, "Add ten lashes to the established punishment!"

As they drag me towards the whipping post, I see him smirk and add, "That should teach you to not be uppity towards your betters."

_**The process**_

"Avox, these clothes have wrinkles in them!"

_**is**_

"Avox, I see some streak marks on this glass!"

_**repeated**_

"Avox, you're too slow!"

_**as**_

"You are going to regret bumping into me, Avox!"

_**necessary.**_

After an undefined period of time, the training process ceases, and I'm simply left in my cell. Shortly afterwards, I'm taken to another examination room, where an official and several of my overseers await.

The official wastes no time in scanning me before looking at his tablet. "Status report of Avox 02-0179B, Designation A."

"Recommendation for full transfer," one of the overseers says.

"Alright, let's go through the checklist. Time?"

"Pass."

"Unobtrusiveness?"

"Pass."

"Thoroughness?"

"Pass."

"Obedience?"

"Pass."

"Temperament?"

"… Pass."

"Physical condition?"

They strip me of my clothes to examine me closely. All the while I keep my eyes averted so as not to offend anyone.

Finally they are satisfied and announce, "Pass."

After the official marks everything off, he simply states, "Congratulations Avox 02-0179; you have been cleared for a full transfer and are now ready to work in the real world."

_**Once the Avox has managed to clear all training goals, they are ready to be sent out into the world as proud members of the Capitol's work force.**_

_Hooray…_


	5. Service

_**Step V: Service**_

_**After an Avox has completed their training, they are now ready to perform various tasks in the service of the Capitol. There are actually various classes of Avoxes. The bulk of them mostly serve to perform menial labor to keep this city in tip-top shape. Others can be purchased so as to function as personal workers for various households and businesses. At the very top, the Class-A Avoxes are the lucky few who actually get to service the who's-who of the Capitol.**_

The dormitories I'm taken to are similar to the cells during the training procedure. There, I'm provided lightweight pants and a long tunic to wear. Once I get myself cleaned and groomed, I line up with the rest of the Avoxes for inspection and prepare for the work ahead of me.

_**From there, they are**_

I'm standing by patiently for someone to call for my services when I hear some partygoers talking about the coming Quell. From their discussions about potential tributes, I put two and two together, and the realization sends me reeling.

_Tributes are going to be reaped from existing victors… Oh shit; that means that Katniss is definitely going back..._

Unfortunately, the thought keeps me preoccupied to the point of ignoring a young teenager; probably the kid of someone important. The kid immediately gets hostile.

"Hey, Avox, why aren't you getting my drink? I want my soda!"

Forcing down some creative imagery of what I could be doing to that little brat if I had my Peacekeeper gear with me, I simply nod and move to obtain a soda that was not even specified. However I guess that's not enough, because I'm immediately tripped and the kid decides to start kicking and screaming insults at me while I'm down.

"You're useless! I don't know why they keep you if you can't perform a simple task!"

Most of the onlookers just laugh at the sight.

It's fortunate that a hypothetical slap from Posy — I'm not sure she's even capable of contemplating such an action — probably packs several more times of a wallop than the kicks being landed by this Capitolite. However, there's still no way I'm allowed to retaliate; so the only thing I can do is curl up into a ball until an attendant informs the assailant that I'm an expensive commodity.

After I'm patched up, and have makeup applied, I'm sent back out to do whatever work needs to be done.

_**prepared to**_

An intoxicated partygoer decides that it would be a good idea to drink from one of the purge glasses right at the table. His entire stomach contents not only go all over the floor but onto much of the food.

Of course, I'm the nearest guy available.

"Avox, clean this mess up!"

_**perform any task**_

Another party's over, and the guests have all filed out of the ballroom, leaving behind the tables still laden with food. Just the stuff left on one table alone could last the Hob an entire day.

"Avoxes, hurry on now and take these leftovers to the disposal. And no sneaking anything out!"

_**required of them.**_

Talon-like nails skitter across my tunic as the socialite's hand gradually finds its way towards its destination.

"My my… Aren't you an adorable one." The socialite gives a firm squeeze, and I do my best to keep my tray steady and the blood from rising to my face; with the appearance that she has, I don't have to worry about it going other places. Her hand still in place, she gives me a lecherous smile, revealing jewel-encrusted teeth. "Gifted too. I could just take you home with me."

I can hear her tongue flick in and out between violet lips as she lowers her voice and purrs huskily in my ear, "You know what; I think I just might do that tonight."

"Hands off, Euryale!" a man barks as he hurries over to us; the feathers on his eyebrows bouncing around. "I saw this one first and already paid the absence fine! Isn't that right?" he asks, directing the last query to me as he grabs my ass in the process.

As the two bicker, I repeat the same mantra I've used since landing this "job":

_It's just another night… Just another night… Just another night…_

_**Some Class-A Avoxes are even lucky enough to service some of our most valued celebrities.**_

After who-knows-how-many-weeks, I'm told to get myself ready since I'm being transferred to another place of work. I don't question where — as if I can — but simply stand at attention outside my room to be taken wherever. As we reach our destination, I still have no clue where I am; only that I seem to be heading up quite a few floors up a service elevator.

Waiting for me is a female Avox who seems to be my age and, incidentally, also a redhead.

The overseer in charge of me doesn't waste any time. "We're cutting things pretty close right now. Avox 00-1342E is experienced in this and will show you the ropes. Don't screw this up." And like that, he's back in the elevator and away, leaving just us two. The girl motions towards me and we move to stand at attention in front of a couple of fancier elevator doors.

When the doors open, and the occupants from the elevators come spilling out, my blood turns to ice and I learn the true meaning of shame. Because I recognize each and every person:

The man who won every time against me at both drinking and board games. The boy who always had a friendly word to say whenever I — pre-Games — grabbed something at the bakery or — post-Games — crossed his path during one of his bread runs to the Seam. And the beautiful girl who traded and ate with me; not to mention tolerated my frequent flirtations with good humor.

Oh and Effie Trinket.

Haymitch is the first to notice me, the look of humor on his face being replaced by a mixture of horror and fury. The escort is clueless as usual; declaring me and my partner to be a "matched set." That's when the two victors notice.

Peeta, who's supposed to be the one with a speech always up his sleeve, is completely gobsmacked. But worst is Katniss; she has a look of not just horror, but extreme guilt as if she were directly responsible for my current… condition. That look tears into me and multiplies my shame tenfold.

They should just remove any pretense and label this the Angst Floor.

Fortunately, Haymich intervenes, and Katniss runs off before anybody can get into trouble; everybody else scatters soon after. The girl cocks an eyebrow at me, as if to ask me what the hell just happened, but I ignore it — she doesn't need to be in this mess as well — to focus on setting dinner.

Dinner itself is tense affair, with Haymitch and Peeta awkwardly attempting to ignore the ginger elephant in the room, while Katniss is spaced-out in her own little world. She then proceeds to knock over a bowl of peas and uses the incident as a pretense to get close to me. The moment may be short-lived, and is extremely risky, but I still find some solace in it. After dinner is finished and the dishes are cleaned, we're mercifully excused.

When we get back to our quarters, I have an urge just to fall asleep, but my female counterpart gestures impatiently to sit next to her. When she brings out a pencil and paper, I eye her with a look of alarm._ Is she trying to get us killed?_

She seems to notice it and quickly writes, _"Don't worry. They don't seem to care if we communicate with each other here. Just don't try it with the victors, don't write anything that the Capitol doesn't already know, and make sure to burn the evidence. So what's your name and what just happened?"_

So we spend most of the night just getting each other. It turns out that the girl, who it turns out is named Lavinia, also was familiar with Katniss in an awkward way. Through this shared connection — plus the simple fact that we're working together — I feel a camaraderie forming between us, and I'm buoyed by it.

Though one question nags at me:

"_Does it get any easier?"_

Lavinia seems to wait for an eternity before giving her answer:

_"No."_

I don't know what it is about that simple word. I've endured worse and have managed to keep my cool, more or less. But something inside me breaks and, next thing I know, I'm sobbing hysterically, which sounds even worse with a mangled throat.

As I fall apart completely, a set of slender, yet surprisingly strong, arms wrap around me. While my blubbering doesn't cease, I lean into Lavinia's rocking embrace, which gives me a source of comfort that had been severely lacking from my recent… physical encounters.

Things may not get any easier, but at the very least we have each other: two screwed-up souls waiting to die.

_**If you are interested in purchasing an Avox, please contact the Human Allocation Office of Department of Labor. There will be an agent happy to assist you in your purchase.**_

**_We hope that you found this issue__ of Ask the Capitol® to be informative. _**

**_Thank you, and have a wonderful day!_**

**_*Ask the Capitol® is a product of the Department of Communications*_**


	6. Afterword

**Afterword**

First, I'm more than a bit surprised, yet pleased, at the attention this has gotten. Who knew that a story just about Darius going through such a pleasant experience would get considerable proportional readership?

This story was just something on a whim (I literally thought it up just the night before I wrote and published the first chapter) that I wanted to try out.

**Background**

The rationale behind making this story was based on three main things. The first, and major one, is that I was interested in writing the background about a certain class of individuals in Panem's society and the process they go through to come into being. The second one is to show just how screwed-up the Capitol mentality is. Lastly, I thought Darius deserved to get some attention.

At the same time, I wanted to walk the fine line between being descriptive and informative, without falling into the torture porn trap.

On another note: This story, or at least the mechanics explained, is pretty much established in my head-canon now. The procedure is what happened to Darius, Lavinia, Pollux (though without the nice operating room), and a certain major CF/MJ character in my AU "Vox Libertas".

**Basis**

Thing is, I did not think most of this stuff on my own; though I may have exaggerated and adapted it for the futuristic setting. Much of the stuff here

Getting rid of someone's tongue was a common punishment in the past. As expected, it was a common punishment for people who were considered subversives. Of course, the removal is nowhere near the extent as depicted here. Here, the entire tongue is removed and the larynx mutilated for good measure; they can still make sounds (as mentioned in MJ, Avoxes do scream), but even sounds that don't require a tongue come out so mangled that it pretty much shames them into staying silent.

The depiction of feeding was something else I wanted to work on. The tongue isn't just important in talking and tasting (slight tangent; you can apparently still taste without your tongue due to sensors in the throat, but of course not to the same extent); it manipulates food so as to make both chewing and swallowing possible. Hence the use of a feeding tube. Solid food is possible, but requires one to use a finger or stick to manipulate the food.

The removal of genitals among servants is a very common practice in history; the most obvious example being eunuchs. The main purpose was pretty much to cut off the hormone supply, with no reproduction being a nice bonus. However in this story, the procedure in involves full emasculation instead of just castration. For females, internal fixing would mean the removal of the menstrual cycle. Unfortunately, after this story, my head-canon is that Pollux got "fixed"; being that he spent his servitude in the tunnels, it's clear that the Capitol had no use for him in "entertainment". At the same time as can be seen, being left intact is a bitter blessing.

On that note, we have the subject of sex slavery, something which still exists to this day. Not to mention the idea of regular servants/slaves being taken advantage of my owners. Also the whole "absence fine" is based off of the concept of a "bar fine" which some establishments use in certain countries to get around prostitution laws.

Finally the subject of slavery itself. Like the "Ask the Capitol" segment, it's amazing the amount of rationalization that proponents of both chattel (what one thinks of in terms of pre-Civil war South) and wage (factories in the North until the labor movement) slavery use to justify their practices. Same goes for the amount of abuse heaped on a person to help make them feel much less than human, molding them into perfect and obedient little servants in the process.

**Is it Just Me or Does Suzanne Collins Hate Gingers?**

Seriously, redheads seem to get a disproportionate amount of flak in the trilogy, even compared to usual level of angst plaguing everyone. I can't think of one who manages to get out unscathed relative to everybody else. Let's take a look:

Foxface: Is viewed with suspicion by Katniss. Either dies by being unintentionally tricked by Peeta's legendarily-abysmal survival skills or commits suicide; latter assumes that she was probably starving and in dire straits. Also, I personally don't think that nightlock poison is as painless as Katniss' narration makes it out to be; nerve agents are fast, but not pleasant.

Finnick: Usual amount of Games trauma. Prostituted out by Snow. Goes into a deep spiral with Annie's absence. Gets torn apart by mutts and blown up.

Darius: Exhibit A. Also diced into little bits in front of Peeta.

Lavinia: Same as Darius. Back-story is someone she cares for being speared. Gets electrocuted to death.

Castor: Eaten by mutts.

Pollux: Also Avox but unlike the other ones we know, worked in a sewer and never saw the sun for a good chunk of his life. Probably sees his brother eaten by mutts.

In summary, being a ginger in Panem guarantees you an extra helping of suckitude.

**Acknowledgements**

I would like to thank all of you readers for going through and enjoying this story. The fact that so many of you found this to be unique warms my cockles.

Special thanks to my reviewers: Lya200, Raebob, Catching Fireflies, LizzEverlark3thg, cursed to curse, Keb85, littleblessing, nerdyninjaunicorn, and any reviewer who may come by after-the-fact.

Same goes to those who have favorited or followed.

If anybody has any questions, queries, comments, or criticisms, please don't hesitate. Same definitely goes for those who may have medical background and find anything impossible about my stuff.

Again, thank you, and I hope to see some of you in my other stories.

Have a nice day. Or night. Or whatever…

Cheers!


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